


Not Quite Bliss

by Raxacoriocofallapatorius



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Kinda sorry but not really, Loss, Please Don't Hate Me, Plot Bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raxacoriocofallapatorius/pseuds/Raxacoriocofallapatorius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is ignorance truly more blissful? What if those around you aren't as ignorant? Do they experience the same bliss or do they bear your unknown pain too? Some losses are simply too much to bear. Some solutions are almost too much to consider. But sometimes the hardest solutions can fix the worst of problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post on ao3, but I have this work and many others on Fanfiction.net under the same username. This particular story struck me when I was watching Angels Take Manhattan (which turns me into a blubbering mess every time) and it was just such a compelling idea that I couldn't ignore it. Feel free to let me know what you think. :)

She turned towards me, her eyes red and swollen. They always seemed like that now. Well almost always. There'd be times when she'd be preoccupied or excited or confused and she was fine. But then she'd turn to ask or explain or call out to him and he wasn't there. And that always made her cry.

Why did I have to be so selfish?

Why couldn't I just let her go?

She took a few steps towards me, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally got out, "I miss him. I miss him so much and in so many ways." Tears began to fall and she just let them, used to their presence on her face. "And now I have no way to him." She crumbled, falling to the floor and dropping her head into her hands. I rushed forward to catch and then comfort her.

It never worked.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I am SO sorry." I continue to rub her back in soothing circles as she shudders in my arm. After a few minutes the sobs abate and she looks up.

"Make me forget him."

It was a whisper, almost a breath, but I heard the words as loudly as if she had screamed them.

"Please," she begged. "I-I can't. I can't keep going without him. Please." She collapsed into sobs once more.

I rocked her as I thought, working my jaw side to side in time with our movements. I thought of her pain, her misery, how she never had fun anymore, how she had lost her luster, her fierceness, her flame, her will to live...

I thought of how she was before: with him, without him, before him. She was so full of life and wonder. Now she was just a shell. He was her liveliness and it died with him. I stopped rocking and pushed her back slowly, looking down into her still, and always, puffy eyes.

"Are you sure? Absolutely positive?" I ask softly. She nods, the few tears clinging to her chin flying free. I inhale slowly and sigh softly. Closing my eyes, I rest my fingers along each side of her face, resting the tips on her temples and sinuses. She leaned into my hold, and exhaled shakily.

I slid into her consciousness, her memories, her thoughts. I'd done it before, entering someone's mind... deleting things. But that didn't make it easier for me. I worked my way through it all, erasing his existence from her memories, thoughts, consciousness, and dreams. He was everywhere. It hurt me. She would lose so much.

When I'd finished, she slept, allowing her brain to process what happened, fill in the gaps, and cover up the smaller holes. It was probably the most peaceful sleep she'd had in months.

I waited. Let her wake in her own time. She seemed her usual self. The spring was back in her step, the fire back in here eyes, the spunk back in her personality. She's back to normal.

We travel like we used to, all random with no real destination. Its fun. I have fun, she has fun, and it is good.

But ...

There are times. Times when she's not thinking, simply letting her mind wander as she watches me flounce around the room. Times when she turns, as if to talk to someone, but no one is there. Times when she wakes from a nightmare or a dream with tears in her eyes or a smile on her face, even though she can't remember why.

And her eyes always look so sad and empty. Like she's not whole and never will be.

That day, in Manhattan, Amelia Pond didn't die. No. She lived on, traveling all time and space with me, just like I wanted. But Amy Williams did.

And I have regretted it ever since.


End file.
